Inspiration
by Azelma
Summary: Christian has a fight with his muse. Rated for mild language


**Disclaimer:** Obviously I wouldn't be writing this if I owned it.  
  
**A/N:** Not my best piece, so please pardon any errors, mes amis, this was written at about one in the morning, after my dear muse decided to bug me once more. Yell at her for the errors, really. :) Like always, comments and constructive criticism urged and flames will be ignored. Enjoy.  
  
  
  


**Inspiration**

  
  
  
Deviously, the stars winked at him, playing their foul tricks on him once more. Slowly, he rose from his slumped position, and staggered to the window. Leaning out, almost on the verge of falling, he yelled.  
  
Mid yell, he stopped, his voice dying in his throat. He fell back inside, his body limply hitting the floor. Tears gathered in his hazy eyes, threatening to spill down his face. He moaned her name as he reached for the bottle of Absinthe, and let the tears flow.  
  
Drunkenly, he cursed. Half with anger and half with despair, he condemned her for leaving him, and he condemned himself for loving her.  
  
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard the padding of footsteps drawing near. How could someone have gotten in? The doors are locked. He thinks it may be a hallucination. He sees a lot of those. The Green Fairy tortures him often. He hates her with a passion, but she is the only solace he has now.   
  
A chill runs down his spine. He knows he is not alone.  
  
"Pity."  
  
He looked up, confused green eyes peering through a wilderness of black hair.   
  
"Who are you? Where did you come from---the door is locked" he stuttered blankly.  
  
She grinned, flipping her blonde hair over a bare shoulder. "You should know of all people."  
  
He regarded her carefully, drawing himself up into a sitting position. She stood in front of him, blue eyes sparkling mischievously, and a smirk painted on her face. Her right hand on her hip, she shook her head sadly.  
  
"You don't remember me, do you Christian?"  
  
He shook his head, immediately regretting it as a splitting headache coursed through his brain.  
  
"Of course you don't remember me. You abandoned me." she stated bluntly, moving towards him. Bending down, she took his face in her pale hands. "For love."  
  
He stared up at her, the close proximity making him dizzy. Sighing in exasperation, she threw up her hands and turned away. The sudden movement startled Christian, who tried to keep himself from falling over.  
  
"You're hopeless Christian. All this alcohol has gone to your head. You never used to drink. What brought it about? The death of some _whore_?"  
  
Her comment made Christian start , and he suddenly felt as if he had been splashed with cold water. "What did you say?"  
  
"You heard me."  
  
"Take it back...." he angrily got to his feet, ready to defend Satine's name.  
  
The girl laughed. "There's no use arguing Christian. She was a whore you know. You can't ignore that."  
  
He looked away, biting back the words he longed to throw at this strange girl. Composing himself, he looked back at her.  
  
"Who the hell are you?"  
  
She laughed merrily and flounced over to his bed. Sitting down, her skirt spreading out, she smiled slyly at him.  
  
"My name is Evangeline. _You_ used to call me Eva."  
  
Christian mouthed her name, trying to recall anytime in his past where he had encountered anyone with that name. He shook his head.  
  
"Are you sure you know me?"  
  
"Oh, yes. I'm dead sure." she said, suddenly serious. "I know all about you Christian James. I know how your mind works, your deepest secrets, your fears, your aspirations....everything. I know _everything_ that has to do with you."  
  
Somewhat startled, he took a step backwards. "Then how is it that I don't know you?"  
  
"I said it before. You abandoned me. You left me for love. And where…where has is gotten you?!"  
  
Christian muttered something unintelligible. She glowered at him.  
  
"Exactly. Look where your love has gotten you. You're a wreck, a complete disgrace! You've become a drunkard and a cynic! I would have never thought it of you Christian. All for love? Shameless, really."  
  
"Who are you to talk, Mademoiselle? I loved Satine, and the moments I spent with her were the happiest of my life!"  
  
The girl snorted, which only angered Christian more.  
  
"I wrote my best piece because of her - she was my muse!"  
  
Eva's head snapped up sharply, her blue eyes flashing dangerously. "How dare you--I, _I_ was your muse! I _am_ your muse."   
  
She stormed over to him, throwing him down into a chair. "I am the one who inspires you. I am your creation Christian. I was with you--I _loved_ you long before you met her. And I made you happy. I helped your gift take flight. I am the reason you write. Not Satine."  
  
Christian stared wordlessly at the girl in front of him. Eva continued on, in a fury of anger.  
  
"She was fling, face it Christian, a fling. That's what they all are. She was your first love, but she won't be your last."  
  
Outraged, Christian stood up. "Mademoiselle, what right do you have to go around making assumptions about my love life. Satine is the only woman I will ever love. Ever."  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "Really? Then prove it."  
  
"W-what?"   
  
"Prove it. Show how much you love her."   
  
Christian gaped at the girl. "But how?" "Mon dieu, you were never _this_ stupid." She rolled her eyes. "You're a writer, aren't you? Write about it, Christian. Write."  
  
"I--I can't write about it." He paused, looking away. "I just can't."  
  
"Why? Because you don't want to bring up the memories?" She shook her head, a small smile forming. "Write Christian. The best stories are the ones that come from the soul. Go and write about your whore."  
  
He glared at her, suddenly having an incredible urge to prove her wrong - to wipe the smirk off her face. He looked at his dusty typewriter, and absently brushed the dust away. Clearing away the old Absinthe bottles, he sat down. He looked out the window to the battered windmill and smiled sadly. Then, glancing at the blank sheet of paper, he began to type.   
  
  
When the sun came up, he was still typing, and by mid-day he had already finished his story. He pulled the last piece of paper out triumphantly. He glanced around, ready to prove the girl wrong - to show her that he did love Satine. But she was gone.  
  
For a moment, Christian glanced around confused. Then he smiled fondly, suddenly knowing why she came and who she was. His eyes soft, he whispered. "Thank you Eva. Thank you for inspiring me once more."  
  
Outside his window, the girl smiled gently.   
  
"You're welcome m'dear, you're welcome."   
  
And in the blink of an eye, the muse disappeared into the air. For now, her work was done.  
  



End file.
